


Coming Out Ahead

by mindabbles



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Partners, Aurors, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Harry Potter Next Generation, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-01 23:27:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5225228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindabbles/pseuds/mindabbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James and Scorpius need a big break. Albus needs Scorpius. Teddy wants James. Perhaps they'll all learn that you can't always get everything you want, but maybe if you're lucky, you can get some of what you need.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Out Ahead

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to the mods for running this fest. Thank you to the mods as well for being so very wonderful and patient with me. Thank you to my fabulous, supportive, honest, and super speedy beta.

“What’s the occasion?” Teddy asks. 

James peers at him through his pint. He’s very pleased to see Teddy. He doesn’t live here, so it’s especially nice. He’s gone all golden, which clashes terribly with his blue hair. “What do you mean?” asks James, moving the glass so that Teddy’s face shifts and stretches. Teddy can do that himself, but James doesn’t usually do it to him. 

“You’re not usually quite this pissed this early.” 

Albus hands Teddy a glass. “Here. Drink. They came home with a head start in that department, moaning about how they’ll never get promoted. That’s why I Floo’d you. I needed reinforcements.” 

James puts his glass down on the coffee table, perhaps a little more firmly than necessary. “You try being an Auror and Dad’s son at the same time.”

“One of those was enough for me, thanks,” says Albus. 

“Try being Draco Malfoy’s son and an Auror,” Scorpius says. “I’ve got to prove I’m on the right side every minute and James would have to do something, well, something like kill the Dark Lord, to get noticed.” 

“You’re both idiots,” says Teddy. He’s much less golden now, James notices, and he can see the sharp angle of his jaw better. “You’ve been at the Ministry for two years. You have to put your time in like everyone else.” 

James frowns. He doesn’t like it when Teddy scolds him. He picks his glass back up and looks at Teddy through it again. He wishes Teddy would come sit next to him. 

“We need a case,” says Scorpius. 

Albus sits down next to Scorpius and James watches his partner. Scorpius is so controlled. No one but James can probably see how he leans subtly nearer, how his breath quickens just a hair when Albus is near him. That’s because James is a trained observer, and a bloody good one, if anyone would care to notice. 

“We have the case,” says James. “They just put Bunch and Goldstein on it instead of us, the first non-Potter and non-Malfoy they could find.”

“Haven’t they both been there for years? I’m sure they were on the first case I worked with the Ministry. You might be taking this a bit far,” says Teddy. 

“That’s entirely beside the point,” James says.

“Teddy, you need more to drink,” says Scorpius.

“If I’m going to stay here, I would have to agree with you, Malfoy,” Teddy says. He takes a big swig and James watches his throat as he swallows. Teddy finally flops down on the sofa, next to James.

“So why don’t you fill us in on the very terrible, oppressed and disenfranchised lives of two such infamous sons as yourselves,” says Albus.

Scorpius raises his eyebrows and smiles at Albus. “He’s adorable when he’s snarky, your brother,” he says, and Albus blushes. 

"There’s an organised group, a crime ring. They trade in dark artifacts, old stuff, very dangerous and expensive,” James says. “They sell their stuff at big parties. They set them up for one night, and then they’re gone. It’s very posh, like an art gallery or something – wine, food, the whole bit. Then they disappear without a trace.”

“No one knows who they are,” says Scorpius. “And if we caught them – the lead blokes, that is, not the peons who work for them – we’d solve the case of the century, so far, anyway.”

“I’ve heard of this,” Teddy says. “Harry mentioned something about it to me last week.” 

"He talked to you about it, did he?” James snaps, and immediately regrets it. The last person he wants hacked off at him is Teddy. 

“Well, I am a Curse Breaker aren't I? And the objects are cursed.” Teddy pauses and stares at James. Even though he’s clearly annoyed, the look he gives James, with his intense brown eyes, goes right to James’ cock. “Right. He said they’ve no leads at all. He was hoping I’d heard some chatter.” 

“Ah, but there is a lead,” says Scorpius. “The parties are arranged by a couple, a couple of blokes. No one knows exactly who they are, but they are rumored to be one tall and fair and one, er, stocky, and ginger.” 

"So, where are you going with this, as if I need to ask,” says Albus.

James looks from his brother to Scorpius. He really should just sod it and tell Albus how Scorpius feels. His partner will be miserable until his stupid brother does something about how much they fancy each other, and his brother is too stupid to see it. 

The last time James tried matchmaking when he was the better side of three pints, Lily hadn’t spoken to him for a week. “Dad said they’re still working out what’s best to do with the information," James says keeping the focus on the case. "They don’t want to risk the contact, and Dad reckons we have one chance to set something up. Kingsley wants to gather more intelligence and wait.”

Teddy huffs and James wishes the warm breath was against his ear. “Wait for what? More dark objects to be distributed to criminals?” 

“Exactly,” says James.

“So…what would your Dad have done when he was in the field, before his arse started to spread on a desk chair?” Scorpius asks.

James shakes his head to rid himself of that image. “He would have set up a sting and worried about the consequences later.” 

“Exactly,” Scorpius says, crossing his arms over his chest.

**~~~**

“No, you idiot.”

Albus stops so quickly he bashes his shoulder against the doorframe. He runs his hands through his hair and suddenly wishes he’d pulled on something more presentable than his favorite old blue tee-shirt and faded track pants. None of this makes sense, he knows, because while Scorpius always looks perfect, he’s certainly seen Albus looking worse than this. 

“You have to mean it,” Scorpius says.

Logic be damned, Albus is about to turn and change into something that looks less like Dad on a Sunday morning when he hears his brother sigh and say, “You want me to grab your arse?”

“That’s exactly what I want, Potter.” 

“All right, then.” 

James laughs, low and throaty. Albus can almost hear them both begin to breathe more quickly. 

“Convince me,” Scorpius says, laughing in answer to James.

James’ voice is quieter now. “You do have a very fine arse.”

“That’s right,” Scorpius purrs.

Albus runs back to his room, heart racing. He had to leave or he’d have burst in and knocked his brother’s head off and hexed Scorpius. He’s just enough sense left to realise that attacking two Aurors is not a wise plan. 

He flings open his window, grabs his broom, and heads to Teddy’s as quickly as he can.

**~~~**

“That’s right,” Scorpius purrs, lowering his voice, soft and deep. “Just pretend I’m Lupin.”

“Shut it,” James says. He backs away from Scorpius. “I thought we were supposed to be convincing. That won’t happen if you break character.”

“I’m convinced you were thinking about Lupin about one second in,” Scorpius says. “Who’s breaking character, then?” 

“Shut it.” 

“You said that already. That’s probably enough for now, at any rate. I wouldn’t want to rile you up and then leave you hanging,” says Scorpius. He glances over his shoulder, toward the sitting room door. “Your brother must have gone on a bit of a bender last night. I don’t think I’ve even heard him this morning.” 

“You doing a bit of pretending of your own?” 

Scorpius rolls his eyes, willing his pale cheeks not to colour. “Back to work, Potter,” he says quickly. “Let’s go over what else we need to convince Shacklebolt and your darling daddy that we are the team for this job.”

**~~~**

An urgent need to piss pulls Albus from sleep. He buries his head back into his pillow and tries to sleep. He turns onto his side, hoping he can ease the pressure and slip back into sleep. It’s no use. He swings his feet to the floor and rubs his hands over his face.

The long day comes rushing back to him. Teddy didn't believe him. Albus had barreled into Teddy’s flat, babbling. He knew he’d been making no sense, but Teddy had barely even listened. He’s insisted that Albus had misheard, and then when Albus had described the arse-grabbing bit, Teddy just looked annoyed and said he had to get back to work. The day had gone on from there, and Albus had barely see Scorpius or James all evening – they’d come home from work and said they had to work on “something.” They’ve been locked in Scorpius’ room since then. 

Albus hears the low rumble of voices from across the hall, from Scorpius’ room. He hopes he will be able to fall back to sleep, so that he doesn’t have to wake so soon and face a day of trying to remember to breathe in a world where Scorpius fancies his sodding brother.

**~~~**

“Are you ready?” James asks. He gulps the last of his tea.

“Always ready for you, love,” Scorpius answers, running his hand across James’ shoulder and down his arm. 

“Leave off,” James says pushing Scorpius's hand away. Something about the way Albus looked at them when he came in last night made James’ stomach ache, like it did when they were little and Albus was getting a telling off from Mum or Dad. “We don’t have to be at it every minute. I’m going to tell Albus we’re off.” 

“I’ll tell him,” Scorpius says quickly. 

James watches him walk down the hall to Albus’ room. He’s tall and slim and fit as hell, with his pale hair and soft grey eyes. Anyone with a pulse would be happy to have him, but all James can think about when Scorpius is all over him is Teddy’s sturdier frame, his warm brown eyes, and the way his mouth curves up a little higher on the right side when he smiles. Some days he’s sure Teddy’s as interested as he is and others he’s certain that Teddy sees a little brother when he looks at him. At least a dozen times, James has been on the verge of telling Teddy that he wants him, but his mouth always seems to stop working right at the crucial moment. 

“Ready?” Scorpius says, pulling James back to his kitchen and the day at hand.

“Ready,” says James. “We’ve faced worse. They’re not anymore terrifying than Professor McGonagall was and we faced her dozens of times.” 

“I don’t know,” says Scorpius. “I think your father has the potential to be more terrifying than the Headmistress most days.”

“All right, they’re not more terrifying than a roomful of dark wizards, and we’ve faced that.”

“Yes, but something tells me we won’t have a variety of hexes at our disposal for this meeting,” Scorpius says. He’s finally smiling, though, and that always helps James to feel more confident. 

After having been partners for two years, they feed off of each others’ emotions, can read each others’ reactions. There’s no way they can’t play a convincing couple. If James could just stop thinking about Teddy long enough to focus on Scorpius. 

James’ heart begins to pound as soon as he steps out of the lift. The door to the conference room looms ahead of him. He can hear the deep, rumbling voice of the Minister, and his father’s lighter, baritone. 

“Nothing for it,” he murmurs, and Scorpius gives him a light shove toward the room.

Dad, Kingsley, Uncle Ron, and every senior Auror are seated around the huge conference room table. Scorpius and James take their places at seats along the wall – not at the table, not yet, anyway. 

“I think everyone’s here,” Uncle Ron says. He waves his wand and a screen appears at the front of the room with lists of names, times, places, and details, every fact they know about the case so far. “We’ve been through this enough times that I’ll spare you the details. We still have almost no information about the primary suspect. We do know that it’s nearly two months since there’s been any chatter about one of their little get-togethers. We also know that there’s a rumor that the mark is taking a break because something we did edged a bit too close. And, we finally have some intelligence about the blokes who hold the parties.” 

“Has anyone had any luck with the leads on dark objects?” Bunch asks. 

"I'm afraid to say that most of our trails are going cold and I don't think we've another solid plan," says Harry. "I’m beginning to think we will just have to wait until they decide to hold another party.” 

Scorpius elbows James and gives him a significant look. They’s decided that James would be the best one to pitch the idea first, and then Scorpius would swoop in with the convincing arguments. 

James gathers up his courage and says, “Why wait?”

“Yes,” says Dad, slowly. “Go on.” 

“We know what the blokes who arrange the parties look like. We have some idea of the kind of posh to-do they put on, and we have enough dark objects in the evidence room to make it convincing.” 

“Right.” Scorpius jumps in and James tries to catch his breath. “We set it up like a gallery opening, make sure the word spreads to the appropriate places, and then we watch who comes, who buys what…”

“It could go terribly wrong,” says Kingsley. “We could lose possession of several very dangerous cursed objects, and for nothing. There’s no guarantee that anyone who could lead us to the head man would show.” 

"It’s an interesting idea,” says Harry. “How would we be sure to observe everything that goes on. Too many Aurors would give it away for sure.” 

The Minister is looking stony-faced and James’ heart begins to sink as he sees his big idea slipping away. 

“Look,” says Ron. “We’re not getting anywhere tracking objects and collecting intel. I think the lads are quite right. It’s time to do something big. George was just telling me last night that Albus has been working with extendable ears and developing some new charms that could be used in surveillance.” 

Kingsley clears his throat and shakes his head. “People with the level of organisation and knowledge about dark objects that these people have will know very well what we have in the evidence room. The _Daily Prophet_ reports on every seizure of cursed objects. They’ll spot a set up as soon as they walk in the room, if they walk in the room when they’ve heard about the event in a different way than usual.” 

James realises the depth of his inexperience. He didn’t think of any of that. 

“Sir,” says Scorpius. “I could ask my father to retrieve things from Malfoy Manor. There are several family heirlooms, so to speak, that he secured in a vault after Grandfather passed away. I’m sure he’d be pleased to see them put to good use. He neutralised them, but I am sure a Curse Breaker could make them convincing for any buyer.” 

“And we could get some things from the Black family vault as well,” James says.

“We could put out a story that ancient pureblood homes had been robbed, and only antiques with dark magic history taken,” Harry says. 

“The description of the couple who set up the events could be James and me, with barely any modifications,” says Scorpius. “We’d just need to change our faces, much less dangerous and more predictable than Polyjuice.” 

“Kingsley,” says Harry. “I think they have a point. We’ve been chasing our tails for months. We have all the elements to make this work. The worst that happens is we arrest some low-level criminals who might have some information.” 

“I agree,” says Ron. James can’t help but notice that both Dad and Uncle Ron look as excited as he’s ever seen them. 

Kingsley crosses his arms and sits back in his chair. He scratches his chin. “All right then, it’s against my better judgement, but Graham Brown and Serge DeCloche it is, Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy. You’d better go and see Francis for some moderate disillusionments. Don’t leave it to any chance. You’re both too recognisable.” 

Dad claps his hand on James’ shoulder and leans in. “I’m proud of you for doing this. First sign that it’s going pear-shaped, you’re out of there.” 

James’ heart beats against his chest. He can hardly believe they’ve convinced them – he feels excited and afraid, has a warm glow from his father’s praise and a little jolt of fury that he’d felt it necessary to warn him off danger. He doesn’t usually feel so many things at once unless Teddy’s in the room. 

Kingsley walks past on his way out the door and James hears him muttering something about an apple and a tree.

**~~~**

James has never worked such long hours. Kingsley has seemed to take it as his personal goal to teach Scorpius and James a lesson about the perils of coming up with brilliant ideas.

“I think I can remember what my bed looks like,” James says. 

Teddy laughs. “Well don’t think on it too deeply. We have a lot left to do here.” 

Here’s the unanticipated benefit; cataloguing and preparing each object takes a long time, and because of the sensitive nature of the assignment, Dad and Uncle Bill decided Teddy was the perfect man for the job. 

The long table in the evidence room is covered with antiquities. They range in size from a roll-top desk that, in it’s day, would shrink any intruders to the size of a Kniffler and imprison them in a drawer, to a hatpin that could be filled with poison and jabbed into unsuspecting passersby. 

“Lovely people you two come from,” James says. 

“Leave me out of it. My branch of the family tree was lopped off,” Teddy says.

He’s bent over a covered bowl, about the size of an apple. He’s been unable to open it for the last hour. His fringe keeps falling into his eyes and each time, he frowns, brushing it back. His hair flops onto his face again and James imagines reaching out to brush it back, feeling the warmth of Teddy’s skin and the softness of his hair. 

“How did you sleep at night, knowing this stuff was in your basement?” James asks Scorpius, to pull his thoughts away from the way the lamp light plays off of Teddy’s hair. 

“It wasn’t the basement, it was the vault, and I didn’t know about it until after Grandfather passed away. Dad didn’t know most of it was still there either. He thought everything had been confiscated. When he found all this, he just sealed the vault and left it.”

Teddy exclaims, “Got you, you bastard!” He casts a quick spell that James now recognises as containing any dark magic in a small bubble around the little bowl he’s been working on for so long. He levitates the cover, moving it off the bowl. A film of vapour trickles out of the bowl. It’s a sickly green, and even though James trusts Teddy’s containment spell, he takes a step back. “Nasty little thing,” Teddy says. He mutters another spell and the green vapour spirals into a small bottle he’d placed next to the bowl, which he seals immediately. 

“It’s brilliant, watching you work,” James says. He can’t take his eyes of Teddy’s hands. They’re broad and strong, but gentle, and move deftly on the smallest of the objects. 

Teddy exhales as if he's been holding his breath and flashes James a charming smile, eyes bright under the fringe that has once again fallen over his forehead and into his eyes. 

“I should go and check on the food and chairs and whatnot,” Scorpius says, waving his hand vaguely. 

Everything is set already. The food, the drink, the venue, the less-known Aurors who’ll pose as event staff, their disguises. It’s all done. 

“Thanks,” James says. He’s alone with Teddy all the time, but for some reason, he’s suddenly nervous. Maybe he’s worn down by fatigue. Maybe it’s the long hours in a dark room in the bottom layers of the Ministry. Maybe it’s the way Teddy’s damn fringe falls over his forehead, but James feels closer than he ever has to just blurting out to Teddy that he’d let him shag him right here, right now, and every day for the rest of their lives. 

“Scorpius is a good partner to you,” Teddy says, with a slight question in his voice. He looks directly at James’ face as if he’s looking for an answer to some other, more important, questions.

“Er, yeah,” says James. “He’s the best.” 

“He’s fit as well, yeah?” Teddy looks back down at the table. There’s only one artifact left to process. Each one has been painstakingly catalogued, neutralised, and charmed with just enough of a veneer of dark magic to fool anyone but the most skilled. James knows Teddy's brilliant, but he didn’t realise quite how brilliant. The skill and power with which he dealt with over 100 objects, any one of which would have killed a lesser wizard, made him seem hotter than he ever had before, which was no mean feat. 

“What?” James asks. “What did you say?”

“Fit,” says Teddy. “Scorpius is gorgeous. I can see why someone would fancy him. I mean, you’d have to be blind, right?” 

That cliff, the one that James pictures every time he gets close to telling Teddy how he feels, goes careening out of reach. “Yeah, I reckon he’s all right.” 

Something in the set of Teddy’s shoulders shifts. “That’s it then. We’re finished here. You should go back to yours and get some sleep.” 

“So should you,” James says. He stops himself from saying that they should go and get a celebratory pint. That was a dismissal if ever he’s heard one, and the event is in two days. He will need to be on his game and the last thing he needs is to hear anymore from Teddy about how fit bloody Scorpius is.

**~~~**

“We have less than two hours,” James says. He’s pacing back and forth, surveying the scene as if he were the Minister for Magic. “Will you finish?”

“If you shut up,” Albus says. He’s placed modified Extendable Ears under tables, in flower vases, and woven into curtains. They had better all be pleased with his work, given that he’s doing it under the duress of watching his brother get closer to having the only person he’s every wanted. 

Albus inhales slowly. “Just let me work, all right?” He says. He doesn’t want to row with his brother and this is an important job. 

He moves to the center of the room and breathes deeply again. He concentrates on the room – the size, the angles, blindspots. He needs to place visual recording charms so that every inch of the place will be visible from headquarters. Albus focusses on the eastern-most corner of the room. A charm there will cover a third of the space. It’s intricate, delicate work. He thinks back to the clumsy spells and misguided charms he developed when he first started working for Uncle George. This work isn’t in the same realm. He casts and feels the charm settle into place. He turns to the other side of the room and begins to work. 

There’s something wrong. “Someone’s been in here,” he whispers. 

James is right by his side. “What do you mean someone’s—”

Albus shakes his head. “I’m almost finished here,” he says in full voice. “But I need some fresh air before I finish. Join me for a fag?” 

James frowns, but follows his lead and walks after him to the alley behind the gallery. 

“What the hell’s—”

Albus holds up his hand and walks around the corner. If the inside of the building is already unsafe, the alley is sure to be no better. He walks, and James follows, onto the busy street and down two shops. 

“First, you don’t smoke,” James says, as soon as Albus stops walking. “And second, that’s twice you’ve cut me off. Now tell me what the hell’s going on.” 

“The room’s already been fitted out with surveillance,” Albus says. “Someone’s done it already, and it’s good work.”

“They know, then,” James says. “They know this is a set up.” 

“Either that, or it’s their usual way. They might monitor everything in case something goes wrong.” 

“Fair point. It would make sense that an outfit like theirs would watch or record everything. Now the question is, do they set it up for security on the night of the event, or are they already onto us – were they watching just now?”

“That’s the question.”

“Can you tell if the surveillance is activated? Is that something you would know?”

“Maybe, maybe not. I can try, but I won’t be certain.” 

“In that case, we’d better make sure no one blows their cover.”

**~~~**

James catches sight of himself in the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooks the Thames. He could walk by and not realise he was looking at himself. Between Francis and Scorpius, they did a fantastic job. His hair is a bright ginger rather than his usual auburn, his face is longer and thinner, and his eyes are blue instead of hazel. His robes are better tailored and a brighter blue than he’d ever choose on his own, but they look good. Scorpius knows how to dress a bloke, he’ll give him that. The gallery is decorated in simple, neutral colours – nothing to detract from the objects that are the highlight of the night. The table cloths probably cost more than his entire wardrobe and one bottle of champagne as much as he spends on food in a month. He takes a steadying breath, trying not to feel like a baby Erumpent in a rose garden.

He has to remember that he’s Graham Brown, as comfortable here as James Potter is at the Leaky Cauldron. He runs a hand through his perfectly coifed hair, smiling at the thought of what Scorpius would say after all the effort that went into perfecting it. Still smiling, James turns to look at one of Albus’ cameras and flashes his best grin. He hopes Teddy is watching. 

An Auror dressed as a waiter walks by and James grabs a flute of champagne. He’d rather have whisky, but apparently Graham Brown and Serge DeCloche drink nothing but proper champagne.

Each of the objects is marked with a card, explaining where it came from and listing the price at which bidding will start. No one in the magical world could have possibly missed that the ancestral homes of the both the Blacks and the Malfoys were burgled and previously undiscovered dark magical artifacts stolen. It was in the Quibbler, and not to outdone, the Prophet and the news on the wireless picked it up the next day. An angry Harry Potter and a shocked Draco Malfoy gave very convincing interviews. 

James can hardly believe how many people are here. He vaguely recognises some of them as British witches and wizards who must have left the country after the war. 

He circulates throughout the room. Scorpius’ hand is on his elbow as they move from table to table where the objects have been arranged artfully. So far, no one has made a large bid, attempted to set up a meeting, or otherwise behaved in anyway that would indicate he or she is anything other than an interested, if slightly twisted, collector. 

Scorpius leans in to press his body against James’ side. He presses his lips to James’ ear. “Ten o’clock,” he whispers, the soft breath tickling his his ear making James shiver despite himself. 

“Mr Brown. Mr DeCloche.”

James lets his hand slip slowly over Scorpius’ arse as he turns to look at the man who’s speaking to him. The man shakes his head indulgently. 

“I had hoped we might meet with your employer this evening,” the man says, extending his hand to James. 

"I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” says Scorpius. James tightens his arm around Scorpius reflexively. 

“You can call me Smith,” says the man, whose name is no more Smith than James’ is Brown.

"Smith,” says Scorpius. “I don’t believe we will see our employer this evening. Can we be of any assistance?” 

“Pass along the message that I have something that I guarantee will be of great interest,” the man says. 

“Where can you be contacted?” James asks.

“She’ll know.” The man turns and walks away. 

James keeps his arm tightly wound around Scorpius’ waist. Scorpius reaches to tuck James’ hair behind his ear.

**~~~**

Albus leans back in his chair. He can see every angle of the room. He can hear and zero in on any conversation. Two hours into this extravaganza and, well he’s no Auror, but he can’t see that there’s been anything to warrant the galleons spent on this little affair.

“Pretty impressive, young Potter,” say Troutwine, the Auror assigned to work with Albus on surveillance.

“Thanks,” says Albus. It occurs to him that this may lead to a job, a job where he could use all the skills he learned apprenticing with Uncle George, and work in the same department as Scorpius. Not that is matters, as Scorpius is currently sticking his tongue in his brother’s ear while James, the traitorous bastard, makes sickening faces right at the camera. 

“Yeah, impressive, young Potter,” says Teddy, flopping in the chair next to him. Teddy makes some notes on his roll of parchment. “The woman in purple seems interested in that necklace.” 

James tilts his head, exposing his neck, as Scorpius continues to whisper in his ear. James smiles right at the camera. It’s all Albus can do to keep his eyes on his work. 

“Your brother is trying to kill me,” says Teddy. 

“No, he’s trying to kill me.” Albus says. Teddy laughs lightly. “Doesn’t this bother you?” 

Teddy shrugs. “They’re working. It’s their job. Don’t think too heavily on it.”

“They’re taking it a bit farther than necessary, if you ask me. You forget, I live with them. I’ve heard them at our place, when they think I’m not about. It wasn’t something I ever wanted to hear. Do you honestly think they’re that good at acting?” 

Scorpius leans to whisper something in James’ ear. Albus watches Teddy. He winces. 

“I _knew_ it bothered you. I know why I haven’t said anything to Scorpius. I’m an idiot, apparently, and now it’s too late. Why haven’t you said anything to James?”

“Leave it. They’re working,” Teddy says again, a bit too firmly. “The intel said that Brown and DeCloche are all over each other, all the time.” 

Just then a man walks up to James and Scorpius. He nearly knocks over his cup of tea when James, completely gratuitously, rubs his hand over Scorpius’ arse. “That wasn’t work,” he says. 

“Well, we _are_ working,” says Teddy. “Let’s get back to it, I say.” Teddy focusses in on the view of the tables, making notes as people mingle. 

Albus still can’t take his eyes off of James and Scorpius, the way they lean into each other so effortlessly, the way they touch each other, and smile at each other.

The man seems to have their attention, but he’s speaking so quietly that Albus can barely hear. He enhances the charm on the extendable ear in the curtain behind them in time to hear the man introduce himself. The next words he says are so quiet again that Albus has to adjust the charm again. 

The man leans closer and Scorpius runs his fingers over James’ cheek and tucks his hair behind his ear. Albus watches his fingers. He loves watching Scorpius’ fingers. Scorpius points at the man walking away from them. It has to be an intentional signal. Albus zooms in on him. He just leaves. He doesn’t place a bid on anything or try and talk to anyone else. 

"That man," Albus says to Troutwine. "Have someone follow him.” 

Albus gets a little thrill that Troutwine doesn’t question him, just orders Van Winkle to trail the man. 

As the guests begin to leave, Teddy is up and out of his chair. “I’m off to check the inventory. There’re some nasty bits of business out there. I need to be sure nothing is missing and there's something I need to set right.”

“Let me check to make sure everyone is gone. You’re not dressed to pass as a guest,” Albus says, scanning each of his cameras for lingering guests. He may as well have been speaking to himself, because as he looks up, all he sees is Teddy’s back.

**~~~**

James steps into the narrow hallway that leads to the back alley. His heart is racing as he realises that it’s over, and he wants a minute alone, not in view of his brother’s spells, to savour this. He maintained his cover and, as far as he knows, they’ve pulled it off. He cannot wait to hear what Albus and Teddy saw and heard.

If this works, he and Scorpius will have given the Ministry the lead on a pair of dark wizards who’ve eluded them for years. James feels like he must have taken _Felix Felicis_. He could do anything, take any chance. They’ll be the youngest Aurors to have such a big case to their credit – well, except Dad, Aunt Hermione, and Uncle Ron, but never mind that. 

His mind is spinning with the possibilities so that he doesn’t hear the steps behind him. 

“Pleased with yourself?” 

James spins around. Teddy is leaning up against the wall at the end of the hallway. 

“A bit,” James says.

Teddy walks toward him, slowly. “You look…perfect.” Teddy’s eyes rake over him hungrily, and James is strongly reminded that his father was a wolf. His heart rate before was nothing to what it is now. 

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” James says, but his voice doesn’t have the casual, careless tone he was intending. 

Teddy just keeps coming until he is so close that James can hear his breathing. “You were pretty hot, practically fucking Malfoy in front of all those high-priced deviants.”

“Um—“

“One wrong move and you would have been caught,” Teddy says, his voice softening. “You realise that, don’t you?” 

Teddy takes another step closer and James’ back hits the wall. He’s pinned by Teddy’s gaze.

“Yeah,” he says, wishing he‘d come up with something a little more eloquent. 

“And you, you managed it. I don’t think anyone knew, and what I had to keep asking myself, as I watched you – practically fucking Malfoy in public – was, it is possible to look like that with someone if you don’t mean it, even just a little bit?” 

Teddy presses up against James. James holds his breath. It’s dark in the corner and no one is likely to come down this hallway at any rate. 

Teddy leans closer and James can feel his breath on his ear. 

“Malfoy is not getting you,” Teddy says, his lips brushing against the shell of James’ ear. James opens his mouth to say something and Teddy’s teeth close gently on his earlobe, cutting off all thought. It’s just as well. He had no idea what he was going to say. 

It occurs to James that someone could come back. One of the guests could have left something. James spares one thought for his cover, but only one.

"Scorpius isn't –”

“Getting you,” says Teddy. His lips move to the spot behind James’ ear and James is sure he’d slide to the floor if Teddy weren’t pressing against him. 

“No,” James breathes. 

“No, I am.” 

James runs his hands over Teddy’s broad back, feeling the heat of his skin through his robe, the play of his muscles and his hands roam over James’ body. 

“I’ve wanted—” James starts to speak, but Teddy cuts him off with a whispered, “Me too,” and presses his lips to James’. 

“Mm,” James hears himself sigh as Teddy’s mouth opens against his. The tip of Teddy’s tongue teases his and he feels heat licking through his body. 

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Teddy moans. His strong body is against James’ from knees to chest. He rolls his hips and his hard cock grinds against James’ hip. James answers with a press of his own hardness against Teddy. “Jamie, you’re hard, so hard for me, or is it left overs from Malfoy?” Teddy’s hand slides down James’ front, over his chest and down his stomach, coming to rest at his waist. “Were you already hard, or is this for me?” 

“You, fuck, Teddy. It’s you,” James says, his voice rough and deep. 

“Yes,” Teddy hisses and he slides his hand to press against James’ cock. 

"Oh," James gasps. 

He can't help but thrust into Teddy’s hand. He needs Teddy’s skin against his and he rips open his robe. Teddy’s hands are as deft and sure as they were with his work and James’ shirt is out of his trousers, his trousers yanked open in no time.

“You want me to touch you?” Teddy asks. “You want my hand on you, Jamie?” 

“Yeah,” James says. “Fuck, yeah, touch me. Always want you to touch me.”

“Always?” Teddy laughs softly. He dips his fingers into the waistband of James’ pants and splays them out on James’ skin. 

James moves, trying to get Teddy’s hand lower. He’s dizzy with want. He can hardly believe this is happening. “Yeah, always, since I was fifteen,” he says, before he even realises he’s spoken. 

Teddy stills and James holds his breath, worrying that he’s frightened Teddy off. 

“Oh, Jamie,” Teddy says, soft and tender. His mouth is back on James’, his tongue sliding between his lips and his hand finally curls around James’ cock. 

Teddy strokes him, and, _fuck_ , it feels just right, firm and smooth. James’ hips rock of their own volition, fucking into Teddy’s hand and he curls his tongue around Teddy’s. 

“Gods, I want you,” he groans. “Come on,” he says, reaching to pull open Teddy’s clothes. He works his hand down into Teddy’s pants and moans at the first feel of Teddy’s cock. It’s thick and hot and hard and he’s suddenly overwhelmed with the thought that he might actually get to feel it inside him. “Want to feel you.” 

“Yeah,” Teddy says as James frees his cock from his pants and begins to stroke in time to Teddy’s. 

Teddy twists his wrist and James feels it sharp and intense. “Gonna come,” he gasps. 

“I want to feel it,” says Teddy. 

Teddy presses even closer to James and wraps his hand around both of their cocks. James buries his face in Teddy’s neck. It’s so intense he can’t think, can’t move, can’t do anything but feel Teddy’s thick cock alongside his. Teddy’s hand won’t stop moving, rubbing them against each other, and they’re slick from both of them. James’ cock is slick from Teddy and James thrusts harder into Teddy’s hand. 

“More, fuck, Teddy,” he moans. His hips stutter and his orgasm hits him in a rush, white behind his eyes, and hot and slippery over Teddy’s hand, coating both of their cocks. He wraps his hands around Teddy’s neck and holds on, his heart thudding against his ribs and his thighs shaking. 

"Jamie, Jamie,” murmurs Teddy, stroking and squeezing James’ cock against his, until he shudders and James feels him come hot against his stomach. 

James kisses Teddy then, soft and slow. Their tongues slide along each other and Teddy’s hands slide under James' pants to cup his arse. James whimpers and the kisses turn heated and urgent again. James buries his hands in Teddy’s thick hair and pulls, just to see if he can. 

“I’m not finished with you,” Teddy says, his teeth closing gently on James’ neck. “Not by a long shot. Next time I’m going to suck you and then I’m going to fuck you, slowly, until you’re begging me to let you come.” 

"Gods, yes,” moans James. He can see it, he’s pictured it a thousand times in his room alone at night, Teddy over him, thrusting into him while James clutches at him, completely taken. “Gods, yes,” he says again. “Fuck, let’s get back to the Ministry so we can finish up and get back to mine sooner.”

**~~~**

“I’ve got it,” Albus exclaims. He looks up and immediately regrets letting the words come out of his mouth. Dad, Uncle Ron, Troutwine, Scorpius are all staring at him expectantly.

Auror Van Winkle hasn’t been heard from since he left to follow the man who called himself Smith more than two hours ago. They’re no doubt more concerned about him than they are about what Albus might have found as he reviews the recordings obsessively. 

“You’ve got what?” his dad asks hopefully. 

“What that Smith fellow was doing, or at least some of it.” 

He conjures a screen and sends the moving images to it. There, big as life, is James running his hand over Scorpius’ arse. Albus notices his dad’s cheeks colouring. Albus reverses the images, to a point just a moment before. 

“That’s a top rate bit of magic, Al,” says Uncle Ron, and the nervous feeling in the pit of Albus’ stomach eases. 

“Right there,” he says, pointing at the screen. As Smith approaches James and Scorpius, he taps a bowl on the table with his wand. Albus has to play the moment back several times for everyone to see it, but the lid on the bowl lifts a fraction of an inch and then settles back into place when Smith withdraws his wand. 

"Teddy?" Harry begins, and before he can finish, Teddy says, “Off to the evidence room, are we?”

Albus follows along, feeling, as he always does unless he’s setting the surveillance charms, like it’s “take your son to work day.” 

Teddy and Troutwine removed all of the cursed objects back to the evidence room and placed them under protection spells as soon as the scene was sealed off, although Teddy had been unaccounted for for several minutes as the clean up began.

“Wow. I’ve never seen anything like this,” says Teddy. He weaves several complicated spells that Albus has never heard before. The bowl visibly resists being opened again. It shudders. It creaks. Orange vapour rises from it and everyone but Teddy jumps back and away. 

“Careful,” snaps James. 

“I’ve got it,” says Teddy. 

Finally, the cover slips to the side and Teddy casts a spell, creating a bubble around the bowl and the remaining orange vapour. 

A voice that’s the stuff of nightmares, rusty and shrill, says, “Number Six, Knockturn Alley.”

**~~~**

It was a bit anti-climactic, really. At least that’s how James sees it. Van Winkle probably doesn’t see it that way. But honestly, even a remarkable wizard isn’t really a match for Dad and Uncle Ron, and this bloke had Scorpius, Teddy, and James to contend with as well.

They arrive at Number Six to find a printing shop that appears to be empty.

“These idiots,” says Uncle Ron, picking up a pamphlet from the front table. 

“Brilliant,” says Dad. Glancing at what looks like a single page newspaper. 

_Restore Knockturn Alley to it’s former GLORY!_ is emblazoned across the top. James glances at the pamphlet that Uncle Ron is still waving about and catches something about preserving “our proud heritage of dark magic.”

“I’m sure _glory_ isn’t how I’d even have described this street,” says Uncle Ron.

“Certainly not in all capitals,” adds Dad. 

“You know this place?” asks Scorpius. 

“We keep an eye on it,” Dad says. “It never seemed to amount to anything other than a curiousity for most people.”

“We keep an eye on it, too,” says Teddy. 

“Right, then,” says Harry. “Let’s keep our guard up. Scorpius, Ron, and Teddy, you go around the back. James, come with me.” 

James follows his dad. He still doesn’t know how he does it, and fears it’s something he will never learn, but Dad seems to know exactly what he’s looking for and where to find it. He walks right to the back left corner of the shop front. 

“Watch,” says Dad, lifting his wand to what looks like a blank wall in front of them. 

James doesn’t have to be told. Despite what people say about him and how they seem to want a celebrity to behave, Dad’s never flashy about his work. He’s steady and thoughtful, and he solves cases through hard work, not stunts. 

“Look,” James says. As Dad murmurs spells and touches the wall with his hand, the very molecules seem to shift and change. An arch opens up. 

“Behind me,” whispers Dad. 

James grips his wand and follows. 

Behind the shop front is another, larger room – larger on the inside than it is on the out. James is hit by a blast of cold air as they step into the room. 

The hair on the back of James’ neck stands on end. 

Van Winkle is bound to a chair. There’s a trickle of blood running from his temple and the corner of his mouth. 

He opens his mouth and makes a small, broken sound. Dad shakes his head and raises one finger to his lips. 

"It's a trap,” says Van Winkle.

The words are barely out of his mouth when the man James recognises as Smith appears in front of them. If this weren’t so serious, James would have burst out laughing the moment he saw Smith recognise the fact that Harry Potter had come for him. 

“Drop your wand,” Dad says. “Make it easy on yourself.” 

The man turns to run and slams right into Uncle Ron. 

He’s stupefied and on the ground before you can count to two. “They never do make it easy,” says Uncle Ron.

“James, Scorpius, see to Van Winkle,” Dad says. “Teddy, check the place for curses and confiscate any cursed objects. Ron and I will take this gentleman back to the Ministry.” 

Scorpius is already undoing the bindings. 

“It’s Bruno Borgen,” Van Winkle says, his voice hoarse and wavering. “The leader of it all. That bloke’s name actually was Smith.” 

“He told you?” James asks, incredulous that Van Winkle seems to have managed an interrogation while he was the one tied to a chair and being hexed. 

“I convinced him I knew and he kept talking,” says Van Winkle. “He was trying to find out who had set up the surveillance and I just kept saying the boss always had it done.”

“So we still don’t know who else set the surveillance charms?” James asks, removing thick silvery ropes from around Van Winkle’s ankle. 

“Albus will be disappointed,” Scorpius says. “I think that was the worst bit about all of this for him, not knowing who else had the skill to set those charms.” 

Van Winkle tries to stand and he sways on his feet. 

“Right,” says James. “You’d better go to St. Mungo’s. Teddy and I can take him. Scorpius, why don’t you go and find Albus at the Ministry and break the bad news to my brother that his rival’s still out there.” 

“Thanks, mate,” says Scorpius, flashing James a most grateful smile.

**~~~**

Albus paces in front of the hearth in the MLE conference room. He tries not to watch the Floo, but his eyes dart there again and again, waiting for a flash of green.

Scorpius should be here, back at the Ministry by now. It’s over and done with, per his Dad’s Patronus, and unless Scorpius and James are shagging at the crime scene, which would be over the top even for his stupid brother, Scorpius should be back by now. 

The memory of James pressing his body against Scorpius’ long, lithe one, intrudes into his thoughts. 

“Not him. Fuck, please, not him. Choose me, damn it,” Albus says, and he hates the way it sounds, echoing in the empty room. He hates it even more when he realises that as he was talking, he heard the _whoosh_ of the Floo. He clenches his fists at his sides and suppresses an almost irresistible urge to flee. He can feel Scorpius standing behind him. 

“What are you on about?” Scorpius asks, his eyebrows arching in an utterly becoming, perplexed expression. “Choose who?” 

“Where is everyone?” Albus snaps. “I thought you were dead.” 

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Scorpius says, with a small smile on his face. “They’ve all gone home. I came back to get you. It’s over, for now anyway.” 

“Oh.”

“Choose who?”

“You know who,” Albus says. He bites back _it’s not fair_ and tries not to sound so much the petulant younger brother he feels. This is too important. This is the most important thing, maybe ever. “I know you. I know how you like your tea. I know that you’re more frightened than you let on. I know how to make you laugh, and you know those things about me. If you choose James, it won’t, well it won’t be right.” 

“Choose – you didn’t think that was real, did you?” Scorpius asks, but he has a kind smile on his face – the kind he has when Albus is ill or after Albus had caught Sam with another man, but that’s another story. Scorpius is closer now. “You didn’t think I want James?” 

Albus can’t speak with Scorpius looking at him like that. He wishes he could pull it together and say something suave, like James would do, but he’s not James, and with Scorpius looking at him like that, he’s beginning to think that’s more than a bit of all right. 

Scorpius cups Albus’ face with his hand, his palm warm against Albus’ cheek. “You’re an idiot,” Scorpius says. “You know that?” 

Albus could not begin to care what Scorpius calls him right now, as long as he keeps touching him. “All right,” says Albus. His licks his lower lip, a nervous habit he’s never been able to drop.

Scorpius’ eyes dart to Albus’ mouth. “It drives me mad when you do that,” he says. 

“Yeah?” Albus leans closer until he can feel Scorpius’ breath on his cheek.

“Yeah. Do it to me,” whispers Scorpius.

Albus wraps his hands around Scorpius’ biceps. He can feel the warmth of his skin through his robes. Albus leans in and presses his lips softly to Scorpius’. He pauses for a second, memorising the feel of this first, simple kiss. Scorpius' lips are warm and soft and moving against his. Albus wraps his hand around the back of Scorpius' neck, and sighing in a way that makes Albus' body sing, Scorpius strokes the line of Albus' jaw with his thumb. 

The kiss ends, but they don't break apart. They stand, entwined, sharing breath, and Albus breathes out, "Finally." 

"You're an idiot," Scorpius says. He presses his lips to Albus' cheek. "Who else would I choose?" 

Albus presses what he knows is a completely idiotic grin against Scorpius' throat. Scorpius stretches his neck to give Albus more room to manoeuvre he gasps when Albus scrapes his teeth against a tendon. 

“I’ve never been more pleased to have been wrong,” Albus says. He tangles his fingers through Scorpius’ fine, soft hair. 

“Let’s pause for a moment to remark upon my skill at uncover work.”

“Let’s not.” All Albus wants is to get on with this whole Scorpius choosing him bit. 

“That my very best mate believed that I was having it off with his very own brother,” says Scorpius. 

Scorpius' cocky grin, with his mouth so close to Albus, makes Albus ache to kiss that grin right off his face. Albus frames Scorpius’ face with his hands and looks into his eyes. “I do not want to talk about my brother right now. And I certainly don’t want to be reminded of the two of you having it off.” 

“Come here,” whispers Scorpius. He presses his lips to Albus’ and traces Albus’ lips with his tongue. 

“Come home with me,” Albus says, his heart pumping faster.

“I live with you. Where else would I go?” Scorpius asks, laughing. 

“Just like you to ruin the romantic moment.” 

Scorpius wraps his arms around Albus' body, pressing them impossibly close together. Albus can feel himself getting hard and Scorpius probably can, too. The thought makes Albus thrum with want. "Let me make it up to you," Scorpius says.

**~~~**

James can hardly breathe, he's consumed, crushed, overcome, and it's the best feeling he's had in his life. Teddy's body covers him. The way his moves over him, thrusting against him, with the promise of so much more, is almost more than James can stand.

"Bed," says Teddy, his voice a low growl. "The bloody sofa's too small. I want to see you spread out on my bed." 

"Fuck yeah," says James. He starts to try and move, but Teddy's back on him, his tongue in James' mouth and his hard cock rocking against James through their clothes. "Christ, Teddy, gonna come again before we even get to the bedroom." 

Teddy breaks away with a moan. "Gods, yeah, okay, come on." 

He pushes up and James takes a moment to admire the way the muscles in his arms flex. Teddy stands and pulls James up to him, folding him into a tight embrace, his mouth crushing against James' again. 

The door bangs open and James starts, turning – and what a picture he must make with his hair standing on end even more than usual, his lips kiss-stung and swollen, and his cock tenting his robe. Albus and Scorpius fairly tumble into the front room, and they make quite the picture themselves. Scorpius has his hand down the front of Albus' trousers and Albus has his hand wound in Scorpius' hair. Not to mention that James' lips, and the front of his robe, have nothing on theirs. 

"Oh," says Albus. 

"Yeah," says Teddy. 

"Bedroom," says Scorpius.

"Yeah," says Teddy again. 

"All right, then," says James. He wants to be in bed with Teddy more than he's ever wanted anything, but before they go, he needs to say one thing. "Albus, Teddy told me what you thought, and I ought to hex you for thinking I would do that to you. Uh," he pauses, looking at Teddy, "But we'll sort that later." 

"Right," the other three say in unison, and before James can agree, Teddy has yanked him down the hallway and into his bedroom.

**~~~**

Albus scrubs his hand through his hair as he waits for the kettle to boil. He's sure he looks like a kneazle that got dragged through Devil's Snare arse-end first. He doesn't care. He's never been so relaxed and content in his life.

He reads the letter from the Ministry for the third time since he came into the kitchen and found a strange owl waiting for him. 

It's been a week since their adventure and he and Scorpius have hardly left the bedroom, except to go to work.

"What's that?"

Albus turns to see James coming into the kitchen. He, if possible, looks more rumpled and well-shagged than Albus. Teddy's toothbrush appeared in their bathroom about five days ago. 

Albus holds up the parchment. "Letter from the Ministry, asking me to come in to talk about a job doing surveillance work." He says the words as calmly as he can, but he's nervous and excited, and wants James to be happy for him. 

"That's brilliant," James says, and he sounds genuine. "Teddy promoted, and now you a new job." 

"You're not hacked off?" Albus asks. "It doesn't seem quite fair." 

James and Scorpius' big idea did lead to the apprehension of Borgen and finished off the high-end cursed objects dealers. As a reward, they had both received commendations for "Quick Thinking," which seemed a bit like getting the participation award at Quidditch. Van Winkle on the other hand, he got promoted. 

"Well, we can't all be lucky enough to be tortured," James says. "Besides, little brother, your gain is not my loss. And I have Teddy to comfort me – you could say I've come out ahead." James grins, grabs a bottle of pumpkin juice and starts to head back to his room. 

"Thanks, James," Albus calls after him. 

Scorpius isn't taking it with quite such a magnanimous spirit, but Albus intends to do everything he can to remind him that he's young – and there's plenty of time yet for promotions, and many pleasurable activities to keep him occupied in the meantime.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! You can show your appreciation for the author in a comment here or on [livejournal](http://hp-nextgen-fest.livejournal.com/94445.html).


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